


your love's not real (but that's not the way it feels)

by sebstanau



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Bucky Barnes Is A Kristen Stewart Fanatic, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Ducks, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, PR Messes, Panic Attacks, Past Torture, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, bucky barnes is still recovering, im not really sure dkm, yes ducks don't judge me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-09-27 20:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10046144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebstanau/pseuds/sebstanau
Summary: Bucky looks down to the magazine she handed him. The front over has a photo of him and Steve laughing together. He furrows his brows even more. The headline reads, “Captain America Might Not Be As All-American As He Claims: Find Out About His Secret Gay Romance With War Buddy.”What.or the fic where Bucky just wanted brunch, not to end up fake dating his best friend





	1. Part 1: The Paps Are Always Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> so. i guess there was only time before I made a fake dating au?
> 
> titles from one direction's song fool's good
> 
> i would also like to say i haven't edited this yet bc i currently have a face mask on and I just wanted to post this, it should be edited by tomorrow

Bucky Barnes is doing okay, all things considering. He’s been back for a while now, almost three years, and he’s taking care of himself. Genuinely.

He’s been going to his therapy sessions, he’s fine with Steve calling him ‘Bucky’ _(instead of James, which trust him, he tried for a while, but Bucky just felt so much more like_ home _)_ , and he even lets Stark tinker with his arm every now and then.

But some days, he just isn’t feeling _it._

Today being one of them.

He wakes up from his entire, mind blowing, _eight hours of uninterrupted sleep_ (see he really _is_ doing better), and he just had that feeling. You know. The one where he knows his day is going to be filled with the memories of all the people he’s killed.

( _On these days sometimes he could hear their screams, feel their blood crusting under his fingernails. He can smell the metallic taste from a mile away, and his heart always fucking feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest. He doesn’t know what to do with their screams ringing through his head and he can’t let his hands touch without fucking remembering how it feels to snap someone's neck. Maybe he’s not doing so well, all the time.)_

So, he does what every person who is trying their hardest to recover does. Message his best friend and seeks out any form of comfort or support.

 _To: Popsicle Pal, 9:45 AM:_ **_um. so. SOS day?_ **

He honestly had to give props ( _see he isn’t elderly he knows what ‘props’ means)_ to his therapist for giving him that idea. Once, maybe around a year ago, Bucky had expressed how he didn’t always know how to put in words how he felt, especially on his Bad Days. She suggested that he could make up a code, share it with his closest friends, so that way he doesn’t need to explicitly say what’s happening. But they still know what state he’s in.

It was actually more helpful than Bucky thought would be.

Steve, since he always has his phone on him, replied in practically _seconds_.

Who would know that the super-serum also enhanced his texting speed?

 _From: Popsicle Pal, 9:46 AM:_ **_Let’s go for brunch, only if ur feeling up for it. Meet u in the lobby in 10?_ **

Bucky lets out a content sigh, _Hells yeah,_ he was feeling up for it. Indulging in food was something Bucky loved to do once he came back.

Hyd*a never fed him much, and everything they did gave him lacked taste. It took him a while to build back his taste buds to a point where his system could handle anything, and nothing felt overwhelming. _But_ once he did, god, did he love food.

And Steve knows that. Fuck, Bucky loves him so much.

 _To: Popsicle Pal, 9:48 AM:_ **_fuck yeah lets go get brunch. we gotta go to that place w the blueberry pancakes pls stevie_ **

He shoots off his reply, before hopping into the washroom so he could clean up. He takes one look at himself in the mirror, and almost gags.

He’s the first one to admit how fucking _hot_ he usually is, but on days like this, it was definitely a ‘it’s a no from me’ moment.

He pulls back his hair into a bun, attempting to make himself look as presentable as possible. He lets a few strands loose, framing his face. It was perfect, and honestly, the right amount of mess so if he ends up fucking it up, it would look _intentional._

Don’t make fun of him, okay? Self-care was really important to Bucky and putting effort into his appearance does help him, a lot. Actually, a lot more than he would ever suspect it to.

Once he’s done, and has everything in order, he heads downstairs to the Tower’s lobby. Tony was kind enough to give Bucky his own floor, and he would be forever grateful.

When he’s there, Steve’s already waiting. His hair is ruffled, and there’s a thin gleam of sweat on his face. He looks flushed, but a tad _less_ than usual. He was probably out for a run with Sam.

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky greets, as he approaches his friend. “How long were you running today?” He asks disapprovingly. It was only nine in the morning, and it took a while for Steve to look this rundown.

“Um.” Steve starts sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “Only like, four hours?” He mumbles the last part, like he thinks Bucky doesn’t have super hearing _just like him._ Bucky rolls his eyes.

“ _Four hours?”_ Bucky squawks incredulously. “You’ve been up since five a.m? Jesus fucking christ.”

Steve rolls his eyes and elbows Bucky in the ribs. Bucky squawks again. “How are you doing though, pal?” Steve asks gently, his tone a complete 180 than before. Bucky smiles slightly.

“I’m feeling a little better now, punk.” He replies, trying to keep the fond out of his voice and miserably failing.

“Jerk.” Steve says in return, equally as fond. They stare at each other for a moment, basking in the moment.

“ _Anyways._ ” Bucky declares, changing the subject. “I’m fucking starving. I want blueberry pancakes. With bacon on the side. And a milkshake.”

Steve shakes his head. “And they say _I’m_ bad.” Bucky elbows him in retaliation

They make their way over to ‘Tall, Dark, and Tasty’, a quaint _(“No Sam, it’s not hipster.”)_ cafe close to the Tower. It’s barely ever overpacked, no matter their location. And the coffee was just, amazing.

Steve’s favourite thing about it was the fact that it wasn’t $5 for a drink. Bucky liked the pancakes.

They enter the coffee shop, the windchimes ringing from the door. Bucky’s proud of himself for barely even flinching at the unexpected noise.

Steve goes to order their food while Bucky goes to find a table.

Fuck, he thinks. There’s only two tables left, the loud chattering of people reminding Bucky that this place _can_ get busy sometimes.

He doesn’t know whether to pick the crappy seat, with napkins and plates strayed all over _(do people not know how to clean up after themselves? Mama Barnes raised him better)_ or the one by the window that was perfectly clean.

He quickly weighs the pros and cons in his brain before heading towards the clean table. What could go wrong?

It doesn't take long for Steve to spot him, those table locating thingy’s in his hand. The future was _great_.

He sits down opposite from Bucky. “They said it would take like 15 minutes. I got you those pancakes, extra whipped cream.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, you are a godsend.”

Steve blushes ever so slightly and Bucky lets out a small smile in return. It will always amaze Bucky how easy he blushes.

They converse, with light small talk for the next few minutes. It was never hard for them to talk to each other, Bucky notes to himself while Steve is ranting about art. Or passionately talking about art? Something about art.

The waitress approaches them, setting their food to the table. “Thanks.” They murmur in unison, catching each other’s gaze and laughing afterwards.

Bucky cuts into his pancake, and the smell hits his nose. He lets out a small moan. “Oh my _god, Steve do you see this?”_

Steve looks at his plate, and back down to his empty coffee. Bucky groans, and places a napkin in front of his best friend. He puts one of his pancakes on the napkin, and Steve looks embarrassed. “ _Bucky_ , don’t worry, it’s okay.”

Bucky glares at him and he shuts up. He raises a piece of the pancake to his lips, and Bucky does the same. Fuck, this is the _best_ thing he’s ever tasted.

So, he decided to repeat his thoughts aloud. “ _Fuck, Steve._ This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He moans.

“Jesus, Bucky.” Steve swears. “There are _children_ around, stop swearing.”

Bucky takes one look at his friend, realizes he’s completely serious, and throws his head back with a loud laugh.

He’s laughing so hard that he’s practically wheezing, and Steve looks confused. It takes a few minutes for Bucky to calm down enough to explain to him. “It’s just, fuck, ohmygod _Steve._ You haven't even been to church in like. Three months. But you’re still acting like a fucking _saint_.”

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to lose himself in laughter again. He doesn’t shut up until Steve kicks him under the table.

Bucky’s missed this.

 

\-----

 

Bucky knows something is wrong the minute Jarvis wakes him up.

“Mr. Barnes, Mrs. Potts wants to see you and Captain Rogers downstairs. She’s said it’s relatively urgent.”

Bucky grabs the closest pillow and ploughs his face into it. He lets out a muffled scream. He doesn’t wanna get up and have to fight aliens. Or robots. Or alien robots.

The future is weird.

“Um, Sir? Are you okay?” The AI asks from the ceiling. Fuck, he had forgotten about him.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Just tell Pepper that I’ll be there in five.” He croaks to the system, his voice sore and raspy from the morning plus his scream.

He drags himself out of bed, and goes to the washroom to splash his face with cold water. He doesn’t take too much time organizing himself, just in case the world was going to end.

He didn’t really want that to be on his shoulders.

He runs to the elevator, heading to Pepper’s offices. He’s only now woken up properly and he realizes that if he needs to go to Pepper’s then chances are the world isn’t ending today.

He could’ve spent more time on the wreck that is his hair, fuck.

He walks down the corridor, a small smile taking over his face when he spots Steve’s golden hair through the glass. He furrows his brows when he sees his expression, though. Steve’s running his fingers through his hair, his eyes are blown wide.

What the fuck?

He enters the room, not caring to knock. “What’s happening?” Bucky cautiously asks. Steve stammers through a response and he plops himself on the seat with frustration when all that comes out is a shitlod of mumbling.

Bucky looks over to Pepper, who’s sitting at her desk, a warm smile on her face. “Mr. Barnes, please have a seat.”

Bucky looks at her expectantly, while going to sit down. “Pepper, I’ve told you, call me Bucky.”

“Okay, Bucky.” She agrees. “We have a bit of, um, a _situation_.”

He eyes her down, and looks over to Steve. Steve gestures wildly back towards Pepper. “What situation?”

“Well, if you see this magazine over here.” She starts, passing over a paper to her. “There are some rumours floating around that I need your opinion to go about.”

Bucky looks down to the magazine she handed him. The front over has a photo of him and Steve laughing together. He furrows his brows even more. The headline reads, _“Captain America Might Not Be As All-American As He Claims: Find Out About His Secret Gay Romance With War Buddy.”_

What.

“Am I really being called down here over one small implication? And why are _you_ ,” He gestures to Steve. “So upset about this?”

Pepper snorts. Steve pipes up. “ _Because_ they aren’t allowed to just, like, say being gay isn’t ‘American’? And the actual article is just worse _trust me,_ fuck.” Steve rants, taking a deep breath through his nose. “This isn’t how I wanted to come out as bi.”

Well. That surprises Bucky. “ _Hold up?_ Why haven’t you ever told me anything?”

Steve blushes at the again, and he goes from Angry Steve to Bumbling Blushing Virgin Steve. “I thought you knew.” He mumbles.

Bucky rolls his eyes and elbows his friend. He’s trying to think of something to say when Pepper cuts in. “No matter how sweet this moment is, we have to get back to the original subject, boys.”

They direct their attention towards the woman. “To answer your question from earlier, Bucky, normally we would just ignore this one tabloid. _But_ to make it even more complicated, the tabloid inspired a million different other ones which all went viral. The internet is currently, um, obsessing, over the two of you as a couple. We need to release a statement about it.” She pauses for a moment.

“It also does give us the opportunity to let Steve come out. Only if he wants to, of course.”

The two men take a glance at each other, trying to figure out what the other is thinking. They have a quick conversation with their eyes, things being passed around like, “Are you okay?”, and “Are you comfortable with this?”

Steve takes the initiative, thankfully, and speaks up for the both of them. “Maybe we could do a press conference? So we can make it a little more intimate? And shoot down the questions right away?”

Thank god, Steve didn’t fuck that up. Bucky reprimands himself, he doesn’t Steve ever necessarily fucks _anything_ up, but he’s stupid sometimes. But not this time.

 _Anyways_ , what Bucky’s trying to say is that he agrees. He nods along, looking towards Pepper for confirmation.

“I’ll try to do what I can to make it happen as soon as possible.” She sighs. “Do you think tomorrow will be too soon?”

“Don’t worry, Pepper. Whenever you can fit it in, we’ll be there.” Steve promises, before looking at Bucky. It’s like Steve could almost see the panic that arises in Bucky at the thought of having to be a part of the press conference. He thought he would only be _watching_. “Or I will.”

Bucky grimaces. He’s not good with huge crowds of reporters, questioning him. It reminds him too fucking much of having to repeat his mission reports to Pierce. He doesn’t even know why.

 _(Or maybe he does. Maybe he does know that it’s because Pierce used to try and squeeze every single last fucking detail out of him, just like these vultures of reporters. Make him tell Pierce the time of his sightings to the fucking second, thinking he would remember. Like he was a robot. Not human. Or maybe these reporters remind him of the odd Hydra member, that was high up, and would come and admire the Soldier, admire his obedience. Watch him with the same amazement a child has their first time at the zoo.)_ _  
_

_(Maybe Bucky wasn’t 100% better but he was getting there._

_He just doesn’t like reporters. Or press conferences.)_

They walk out of her office together, both soaking in the previous conversation because honestly, what the fuck?

“So,” Steve starts. “That was. Unexpected.”

Bucky snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’m sorry I had to get you into this, Buck.” Steve murmurs, his voice drowning in guilt.

“Steve, what? It’s not your fault.”  

“But it _is,”_ He insists. “I dragged you out for brunch.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “ _Dude_ , I needed to go out. Don’t worry, I’m not even bothered by this.”

“You’re _not?_ ” Steve replies incredulously.

“You _are?”_

“Well no, I mean like it’s not really a big deal to me, it just like. It seemed like you were upset in there.” Steve stammers. Bucky elbows his friend. “Ow!”

“Steve, I was just mad about how they were talking about it.” He pauses. “I thought things changed in the future, but honestly? It just seems like people are better at hiding this stuff.”

“Tell me about it.” Steve laughs.

They make their way up to their own floors, Steve stopping at his.

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky calls out to his best friend. “Good luck tomorrow.” He smiles.

Steve looks at him, a soft grin taking a place upon his lips. “Thanks, Buck.”

The elevator doors close and Bucky waits for it to bring him to his own floor.

\------

Bucky is lounging on his couch when it happens.

He has the TV on, turned to channel 22. He’s waiting to watch Steve’s press conference live, and he prays to god that everything will go okay.

It probably won’t.

Five minutes later, and four minutes into Steve’s press conference he proves himself right.

The past few questions Steve had answered with something vague, a more complex way of saying ‘no comment’. He hadn’t yet directly approached the subject of _them_ yet.

Until some asshole decides to say, “How do you expect America to react to a national icon, such as yourself, dating the same gender? Is it a political statement? How can you consider yourself patriotic?”

And, fuck. Bucky can practically see the smoke blowing out of Steve’s ears on the livestream. His entire face goes from peacefully blank to angry yet stoic. Bucky groans.

Steve is fast and harsh with his reply. “Are you kidding me? It shouldn’t be a big deal if I am or if I’m not dating a guy. It’s less patriotic to _hate on someone for something that isn’t their fault_ than to date someone of the same goddamn sex.”

Steve lets out a harsh puff of anger, before continuing. “And you know what? I’ve been bisexual since _19-goddamn-18_ and I thought the world had changed."

The entire room erupts with questions. Steve cuts everyone off with, “I am sorry to be rash, but I would like to end this press conference early.” With that, he storms off stage.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

There are so many things going in Bucky’s head right now that he can’t comprehend.

_Is Steve alright? What just happened? What the fuck?_

Bucky has a flare of pride blossoming in his chest for his best friend. On one hand, he’s fucking ecstatic that his closest friend just came out and doesn’t have to hide again.

On another hand, he’s worried because Steve yelled at a room of world-renowned journalists after hearing some thinly veiled homophobic comment.

On a third, non-existent hand, he’s anxious because he hears his phone ringing and when he goes to pick it up he sees Pepper’s face flash across the screen.

Fuck. Again.

“Hello?” Bucky asks cautiously through the phone.

“Bucky. I need you down in the office now.” Pepper demands assertively before hanging up.

Fuck.

 

\-----

  


When Bucky’s about to enter Pepper’s office, he’s hit with deja vu.

He’s been in her office more in the past 24 hours than he did for the past three years.

The main difference this time is that Steve is looking guilty instead of anxious. Bucky doesn’t know which he prefers.

_(That’s a lie. He knows he prefers neither because he never wants Steve to be hurt or be in pain. He doesn’t ever want Steve to suffer.)_

He opens her door, and goes to sit down next to Steve. “So.” He starts, his heart beating with anxiety that has no place being there.

“So.” Pepper agrees. “We need to sort this out.” The two boys nod with consent. “We all know what happened earlier-”

“Sorry.” Steve interrupts mumbling.

“Don’t worry, Steve. This is my job.” She consoles. “ _Anyways_ , we all know what happened. And we have two options to go about this.”

Bucky looks over to Steve, his heart plummeting at the sight of his friend looking so _sad_.

Pepper continues. “We could either go back and deny what Steve said, and deny any implications that he made. _But_ this comes at the risk of people thinking that he’s either, one, homophobic, or two, coming out as a political statement.”

“No.” Bucky cuts in. “Anything but that.”

“But Bucky.” Steve says with an air of righteousness. “I got us into this mess, I will do whatever I need to, to get us out of it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, ready to argue, when Pepper cuts in. “ _Or,_ we could make the public think you are in a romantic relationship. This will let us stand by Steve’s coming out, but also his rant. The privileges of this would basically be that the LGBTQ+ community won’t get upset at Steve, which, not to put words in Steve’s mouth or anything, seems like it would be important to him.” She pauses. “And definitely more important than the support of conservatives.”

“Yes.” Bucky says right away.

 _“Bucky,_ you can’t be seriously considering this.” Steve snaps incredulously. “I'm not going to make you do _this._ ”

Bucky ignores him. “What exactly would this entail? Like, what are we going to have to do?”

“Well, Basic things like going out on dates, and holding each other’s hands.” She ponders. “It’s actually not that different than normal, actually.”

Bucky catches Steve’s gaze and directly says, “I’m in if Steve’s in.”

“Fuck.” Steve groans. “I guess I’m in then.” He says reluctantly.

Bucky looks him in the eyes one more time, silently telling him. _“It’s your decision, pal.”_ Steve nods, knowing exactly what Bucky’s trying to say.

Pepper smiles warmly. “Great. I’ll work out the details and timeline later, now shoo. Get out of my office, you two.” The three of them share a chuckle.

\-----

Later when Bucky is in bed and finally realizes what he agreed to, he grabs a pillow and screams into it. Again.

He’s been doing this way too much lately.

But he has a good excuse this time.

_Because, honestly? What the fuck has he gotten himself into?_


	2. Part 2: Birds Are Worst Than Paps, Kinda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long oops
> 
> tw for panic attacks and a slightly homophobic comment revolving russia

A week later a letter arrives at his door. It’s thick, fat, sort of like a college application. Only, Bucky doesn’t remember applying to college.

He walks over to the kitchen to sit at the island. Without reading the label, he rips open the letter. He sighs from relief when he realizes that it’s just the document from Pepper regarding his, um, relationship? Fake relationship? PR relationship? He’s not really sure, he should probably look it up.

On the internet.

Because that’s a thing now.

He flips through the stapled pages, skimming over with his eyes, until something actually catches his eye. It’s the general timeline of their, er,  relationship? He’s still not sure what to call it, even with the incessant details of the document. The words scrawled on the paper goes something like this:

**First Date:** **_Park, Walking, Casual. Do something cute involving animals. For example, feed a small animal._ **

**Second Date:** **_Typical movie date. Semi-casual clothing, call Tony’s stylist if you need to. Enjoy whichever movie is out. The photographers will arrive after the movie._ **

**Third Date:** **_Dinner date. Formal wear. Roses and transportation will be provided. Please meet before 7 PM EST._ **

You get the gist. Bucky isn’t going to make you suffer through the entire list, or add each and every detail included, because honestly? It’s tiring him out.

The only notable thing other than the seemingly endless list of grossly domestic and over publicized dates is the break-up day.  _ That’s going to be fun _ , Bucky bitterly thinks to himself.

It’s scheduled to be around what would be their 6 month anniversary, if they were actually dating. _ Hm, it might actually be a 6-month fake-iversary.  _

The dates are thankfully planned out with large gaps in between. It ranges from 2 weeks to a month.  Though, Steve and him do actually go out a lot more than that. Like. A  _ lot  _ more than that.

This probably isn’t that smart of an idea.

He quickly skims over the outline again, before realizing that the date of their first outing is  _ tomorrow _ .

Fuck his life.

How the  _ fuck _ is he going to pull this off?

He needs to talk to someone about this.  _ (Or at least that’s what his therapist says he should do if he ever feels that panic growing in his chest, right under his pounding heart.) _

After a few minutes of contemplating  _ who _ to talk to about this, he dials  Natasha’s number. Because, honestly? He needs her opinion. She’s one of the most level-headed people he knows which, actually, doesn’t mean that much when you live with Tony Stark.

It rings.

“Hey, Barn-”

“ _ Natasha.” _ He urgently cuts her off. “I may or may not be fake dating Steve. And I may or may not just realized how bad of an idea it might.” He pauses. “ _ And I may or may not have a fucking date with him. Tomorrow.” _

“Well, hello to you too.” She snarks lightheartedly. 

“Help me.”

“What with?” She jokes, feigning confusion. Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You know _ what  _ Natasha _. _ ”

“Well, I mean.” She starts and Bucky can practically hear the bad joke he knows is coming. “You really are taking ‘to the end of the line’ to another extent.”

What does that even mean?

He rolls his eyes again. “ _ Anyways _ , do you think I’ll be. Like. Believable?” He frowns at the thought.

Natasha lets out a loud laugh, and Bucky pulls his phone away from his ear and winces. He can still hear her from this far away.

After a moment, when she begins to quiet down, he puts his phone back against his ear. “Is that a yes?”

“Bucky. People already think you’re dating  _ without you even trying _ . You’ll be fine.”

Bucky lets out a shaky breath, half from relief the rest anxious. “I don’t wanna fuck this up for Steve.” He reveals.

Bucky can practically hear Natasha’s eye roll. And  _ wow _ , doesn’t that make him feel great? “Take a deep breath, Barnes. You’re not gonna fuck this up.” She pauses. “And trust me, if I even think you will. I will invite myself over and punch you. You know, for Steve.”

Bucky smiles. “ _ Only _ for Steve? Not because you lowkey want to punch me?”

“Please. If I wanted to punch you, I would just make you spar with me.”

“Hey!” Bucky squawks. “I almost never let you get a punch in.”

“ _ Almost _ .”

“Anyways!” Bucky changes the subject. “How are you and Clint doing? He still beating you whenever you guys go practice archery?”

She hangs up. Bucky laughs while tucking his phone into his pocket.

Hopefully she isn’t going to kill him for that.

At least that call is over. Bucky couldn’t stand another second of Natasha showing off. 

_ (Which is obviously another lie because Bucky would talk to Natasha about anything and everything. Even her being better than him. They’ve been through too much together for him not to.) _

He’s less nervous than before, but there’s still that underlying worry that he will somehow mess everything up. 

_ It’ll be okay. _ He convinces himself.

He has an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach and a voice in his head telling him that it, in fact,  _ won’t _ .

Whatever.

  
  


\-----------

 

It’s Thursday evening, approximately 5:39 PM, or 17:39, and Bucky is at Central Park.

With Steve.

It’s their first date. Or first fake-date, he guesses.

It’s actually, it’s not going that bad. So he does what he always decides to do.

Say his thoughts aloud.  _ (Blame his therapist.) _

“This is actually not going that bad, Stevie.” Bucky exclaims from beside Steve. They’re so close, walking next to each other. Bucky is leaning against his side with Steve’s arm curling around his shoulders. 

Not only does it look believable, but goddamnit was it comfortable. 

“Did you seriously think it would be bad?” Steve chuckles, his laugh rippling through Bucky’s  body.

“ _ Well.”  _ He sarcastically replies. “I mean.”

“Shut up.” Steve mumbles into Bucky.

“Fine.” He pouts.

They walk in comfortable silence for a few moments, strolling the paved pathway of the park. Bucky can feel Steve’s heart beating calmly in his chest, and he doesn’t know how to describe the warmness in his body that spreads.

He looks around them. The parks not too packed considering the weather. March is not a great month for New York City. Despite the cold, there’s still people jogging, and cycling through the streets. There are some family’s out together, children running around, and it makes Bucky smile. 

There are also some paps in the bush nearby. He doesn’t really pay attention to that.

The silence continues for a little longer and they walk side by side. Until Bucky sees the pond. That has ducks.

“Um, Steve?” He murmurs, looking up at his best friend/fake-boyfriend. “I think we should walk in another direction. Like completely turn around.”

Steve furrows his brows, confusion riddling his face. “Why?” He questions, before scooping out their surroundings. Bucky knows what he’s doing, looking for Hydra, or something that might’ve triggered Bucky. Bucky groans inwardly because he knows he only has a few seconds until Steve spots it.

Realization and humour flood Steve’s face. “ _ Oh. _ The ducks.”

“ _ Yes, Steve. _ ” Bucky grimaces. “The ducks. Now please, let’s go.”

Steve grins widely and Bucky can spot that glint of mischief from a mile away. “Well, I mean, Pepper  _ did _ say that we should try feeding cute animals.” Steve grabs Bucky’s hands and starts leading them towards the pond.

“She said  _ cute _ animals, not cold-blooded murderers. Which birds are.”

“Buck, ducks practically aren’t even birds. I wanna feed them.” Steve smirks. Bucky tries tugging his hand in the opposite direction.

“Yes they are!” Bucky states incredulously. 

“I didn’t think that one time when we were 10 would still haunt you. You know, even after the excessive brainwashing and everything.” He jokes. Bucky punches him.

In 1928, when him and little Steve Rogers were a mere ten years of age, they decided to feed some birds with some stale bread crumbs they found. It didn’t go too well.

A bird almost pecked out his eye, while another stole his hat. His actual hat. From the top of his head.  _ It literally just swooped down and took his fucking hat.  _

Needless to say, Bucky Barnes has absolutely loathed any and all birds since that day. But he’s also been scared shitless of them.

“I hate you for bringing that up.” Bucky exclaims.

“The birds or the brainwashing?” Steve cautiously asks, pausing his humour for a second. Bucky smiles softly.

“The birds, you punk.”

“Jerk.” 

They grin at each other for a moment before a loud ‘Quack!” startles them. Bucky turns around to see a duck in the pond fucking staring at them. He shudders.

“We aren’t feeding the ducks, Rogers.” Bucky demands.

“Fine, then. Ruin my fun.” Steve pouts, feigning sadness, but still retreating.  Bucky let out a sigh of relief, thank god.

Before they known it, they end up spending another hour just walking around the park, just laughing and walking around.

At some point they decided to take a seat on a nearby bench, just to rest. They may be super soldiers but walking around can be tiring.

Moreso mentally than physically, but whatever. Being tired is tiring.

Bucky leans his head against Steve’s shoulder, resting his eyes. Steve’s loud rumble of a laugh shakes through his entire body, moving Bucky ever so slightly.

“What?” Bucky lazily murmurs into Steve’s shoulder.

“Nothing, it’s just.” He cut himself off with another chuckle. “Today’s been so surreal, and now you’re here lying on my shoulder.”

“Shhh. Gotsa keep up our show for the paps, right? And what do you mean by,” He pauses. “Surreal?”

“I don’t know how to describe it. I’m just, it’s just, I don’t know.” Steve stumbles through an explanation.

“Nostalgic?” Bucky offers. He knows that it was the right thing to say when he hears Steve’s relieved sigh.

“Yeah.” He replies softly.

They sit there for a few minutes, Bucky still resting on Steve’s shoulder. He can hear his Steve breathing, can feel it through his entire body. If he listens close enough he can hear Steve’s racing heart, but it wouldn’t matter. It would just blend in with his own.

Steve starts talking again, but this time he sounds close to tears. “It’s just, I thought I lost you. I, I was so  _ alone _ , Buck. Sure I had Tony, and the rest of the team but.” He cuts himself off with a choked noise.

Bucky sits up straight, so he’s looking at Steve. He rests his hand on Steve’s arm, a light comforting touch. “It wasn’t the same.” He finishes for him.

Steve nods. “I was just, I was barely living, Buck. I barely surviving. I know I shouldn’t be this fucking selfish, so much was happening to you. I just, I could barely live with myself.” 

When Bucky looks up to Steve’s face, his blue eyes are filled with tears. He knows that Steve won’t let them drop, won’t let them trail down his face, won’t let them leave the ocean in his eyes. He hasn’t seen Steve cry since 1936, when Miss Sarah died, and he’s not going to start now.

He makes a mental note to yell at Steve that he’s not being selfish by sharing how he felt, and that it was impossible for him to know what was happening for another time. Steve needs comfort right now, not ‘tough love’.

_ (Which Bucky knew was a shit concept. Tough love doesn’t fucking exist. It didn’t exist when his drunk of a dad would come in at the middle of the night and push Bucky. It didn’t exist when Hydra wiped his brain and tortured him for their bullshit idea of the future. It definitely didn’t exist when he killed dozens of people for that bullshit idea. Okay, he may be trailing off right now, he just has a lot on his mind. Don’t come at him.) _

Bucky goes over what he should do in his brain for a mere millisecond before deciding to wrap Steve in his arms. 

Steve makes a small, wet, whimpering noise and Bucky just holds him tighter. “Steve, pal, you’re gonna be okay. You know why, pal? Because I’m here now and I ain’t never leaving your stupid ass alone.”

Steve nuzzles his face into Bucky’s neck, and there are butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He reprimands himself, tell himself that it’s just because of the intimate moment. But right now, he’s not really sure  _ what _ he’s feeling.

And then the moments over. 

Steve pulls away, and wipes at his eyes. Bucky is trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness that begins to grow at the sudden movement, because what the fuck? What.

He shouldn’t because disappointed because the hug is over? That, that doesn’t make any sense.

He snaps out of his deep thinking, and assessing of feelings when Steve begins to speak. “Thanks, Buck. Love you.” He smiles soft, and Steve’s eyes are filled with such compassion and pure  _ happiness _ that Bucky can’t help but turn slightly red.

He’s spending too much time with Steve. He’s even blushing like him now. 

“Anytime, pal.” 

And that was that.

All in all, this was probably the best first date Bucky’s ever had. 

 

\-------

 

He’s not that lucky the second time around.

Around a month later, mid-April, they decided to go to the movies. Well, he means, Pepper decided.

They take longer than they should to decide on a movie. 

_ “Steve. Let’s watch the new Kristen Stewart movie. The one with the like, dead twin brother, or something.” _

_ “Buckyyy, I’m not gonna feed into your Kristen Stewart obsession.” _

_ “Why nottt? She’s the best thing since sliced bread. Wait.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “We can’t really say that, can we?” _

_ “Why not, Bucky.” _

_ “Because. We were both born way before sliced bread. Like. Ten years before.” _

_ “Bucky.” _

_ “Steve.” _

And it went on like that longer than it should’ve. But since Steve has always had trouble saying ‘no’ to Bucky, when it comes to anything other than birds, they decided to go watch the movie with the best actress who has ever walked this earth. Kristen Stewart.

So that’s where they are right now. Sitting inside a dark cinema, filled with teenagers and young adults. 

Bucky has a bucket of popcorn on his lap, and one hand intertwined with Steve’s. He knows that there’s no real reason why he should hold Steve’s hand right now, since the press is nowhere nearby, but he still does. And Steve isn’t making a move to, well, move, so why should he?

Exactly.

The movie starts up and ends up being a lot spookier than he expected. But they sit through the entire thing, and Bucky’s proud to say he doesn’t jump once.

The same can’t be said for Steve.

During every suspenseful scene in the movie, Steve squeezes the shit out of Bucky’s hand. Back in 1930, Bucky wouldn’t mind that much. But, Steve’s a fucking super-soldier now.

Still, whenever Steve starts to squeeze even a little tighter, Bucky brushes his thumb against Steve’s hand. He’s so happy that it’s dark and Steve’s not looking at him because he would see Bucky blushing whenever Steve brushes his own thumb back against Buck’s.

But the thing is, Bucky only has one real hand left. So like, he likes to take care of it.

He leans over to whisper in Steve’s ear. “Hey bud, you know, I only got one of these left. You gotta treat it with care.” He looks down at their intertwined hands, gesturing to them.

Steve turns a bright shade of red, that Bucky can still see in the dark cinema with the lights of the movie glaring on his best friend’s pale skin. “Sorry.” He mumbles and attempts to pull his hand away. Bucky stops him.

Bucky grins fondly. “Don’t worry about it, just be a little less. Tight.”

And oh. There are so many innuendos that Bucky can make with that, but he won’t. Just because he doesn’t think Steve can blush anymore without exploding. 

Steve mumbles an ‘Okay’, and they both turn their attention back towards the movie.

When the movie finishes, they get out of their seats and move out of the theatre before anybody can spot them. They walk down the stairs to the main entrance and Bucky can see the photographers through the front window. He takes a deep breath.

Bucky looks next to Steve, down to their intertwined fingers, and back up to Steve. “Ready?” He asks him.

Steve nods and they leave the building. And that’s where everything goes to shit.

Bucky expected there to be cameras with their blinding flashing lights, he expected ten paparazzi's to be taking photos and asking them questions. 

What he didn’t expect where the rude comments hitting too close to home, the crowd of paps, and the car being so fucking far. Fuck.

“Bucky! Bucky over here!” One calls out to him. “How does it feel to have Stark give you a place to live, even though you made him an orphan?”

“Captain America! How do you know he’s not going to lash out again?”

“Do you ever feel like murdering your boyfriend?”

“I thought the Russians hated gays?”

His breath is coming in fast, too fast. He begins to panic and tries to remember what his therapist told him to do when he feels like this. But he can’t fucking  _ concentrate _ with all these people, flashing lights, and yelling. He breathes in and out but it just isn’t helping.

He’s hyperaware of Steve’s arm holding him, and he’s trying to focus on that as much as he can. He can feel himself being ushered into their car, but he still can’t fucking focus. The shouting is gone, the lights are gone, but he’s still hearing noise in his brain. His thoughts are running all over the fucking place and his heart is pounding and he can’t fucking do this anymore. This is how he’s going to fucking die and he hates it.

And then he hears Steve murmuring to him softly. “Buck, Bucky. Try to breathe okay, you’re gonna be alright. I promise. They’re gone, they're all gone. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

After what feels like forever, Bucky can feel himself calming down. He lets out one, long, raggedly breath and leans back against the seat.

“You alright?” Steve asks quietly from beside him.

Bucky begins to nod, and then stops. “No. Not right now, but I will be.”

Steve lets out an appreciative smile, and they let the quiet speak the words they want to say for them. 

When they get back to the Tower, Bucky rushes inside without Steve. He just wants to shower, and to sleep this day off. He’ll talk to Steve later, he promises himself. 

He heads to his floor, quickly grabbing his towel, and practically sprints to the washroom. He checks his phone for a split second, just to see the time. That’s when he sees his text notifications, two from Steve, one from Pepper. 

He shuts his phone off. He’ll read them after, he promises.

He gets in the shower, and changes the water from hot to cold throughout the entire length of his bath. It helps him calm down. He scrubs away all the shittiness from the day with his loofah, scrubs hard enough that it practically scratches his skin.

When he gets out, and dries himself off, he lazily puts on a pair of sweatpants. He takes a shaky breath, testing the waters. He can breathe perfectly fine now, his heart stopped pounding. He was calm.

He lies down on his bed, wrapping himself in the comfort it provides, and unlocks his phone. He decides to open Steve’s text first, because, you know, he  _ is _ his fake-boyfriend after all.

_From: Fake Boyfriend,_ _6:09 PM:_ ** _Talked to Pepper, she’s doing something to all the rude paps. Not sure what exactly, she might be getting them fired or sumthing. How ya doing?_**

Don’t judge Bucky for changing Steve’s name, he thought it was fitting.

_ From: Fake Boyfriend, 6:10 PM:  _ **_Also sorry about earlier, yes ik it’s not my fault but still. Pls message me if u need anything, ily buck_ **

Bucky smiles at the message, and his heart starts racing for a whole other reason. If he wasn’t doing okay before, he definitely is now. 

He promises that he’ll remind himself to reply later, and goes to open Pepper’s message.

_ From: Pepper, 6:14 PM:  _ **_Bucky. I apologize for the encounter you had with the paparazzi earlier. It turns out the ‘tip’ I sent out got passed around, thus leading to more cameramen coming than expected. I found out the names of the men harassing you, and I will make sure that they will never have a good PR job in New York again. Take care, Mr. Barnes._ **

Okay, he needs to remember never to fuck with Ms. Potts. She’s fucking amazing. 

“Jarvis?” Bucky asks to the ceiling. “Can you send Ms. Potts a nice bouquet of flowers from me?”

“Okay, Mr. Barnes.” JARVIS answers. “Is there any specific type of flowers you would prefer?”

Bucky ponders for a second. “Is there any kind of flower that you would use for, I don’t know, a thank-you gift?”

JARVIS replies with, “Searching.” The ceiling pauses for a few moments before answering again. “Hydrangeas represent heartfelt emotions and gratitude. Peach roses are often used for appreciation.”

“Any of the two would be alright. Whichever you think suits her best. Thank you.” 

“You are welcome, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky falls back onto his bed, and turns onto his right side. He closes his eyes to take a quick nap. 

It doesn’t take long for him to drift away to a dreamless sleep.

Thank his therapist for that.

 

\-------------

 

When Bucky jerks off later when he wakes from his nap,  _ because let’s be honest, he’s a super soldier, of course he’s gonna need to jerk off, _ he tries to pretend that his thoughts aren’t filled with golden hair, long eyelashes, rosy cheeks, and those blue eyes with small flickers of green in them.

He splashes his face with cold water five times afterwards.


	3. Part 3: A Century Late Sexuality Crisis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no trigger warnings i think but this chapter was kinda shitty. ive had bad writers block the past month and im highkey missing the days where i wrote 10k a day and could barely stop my fingers from typinh,,, its tragic
> 
> sorry for this ugli chapter she tried
> 
> also i suck at replying to comments but thank u to everyone and anyone whos commented!!
> 
> update: 5.10.17, my writers block is so bad i literally have written a word of ANYTHING since i posted this chapter so im not sure when the next update will be also i just realized how shitty this fic is so im gonna try and write a bit and put in more Quality (tm) for my next few fics. it might be a while till i post again sorry

 

Bucky is well aware of the completely fucked up situation he’s in right now.

While he’s in Steve’s living room, fake sleeping across the couch he decides to make a mental list. Because, why not? Maybe it will help him clear his mind, he means, he  _ is _ stressed out enough that he’s pretending to sleep instead of making conversation. It might help him clear his mind.

First, he’s fake dating his best friend.

Second, he’s having a sexuality crisis which is 90 years too late.

Third, said gay crisis maybe, potentially, could be over his best friend. The same one he’s dating.

_ (He’s really hoping that the third problem isn’t a Thing and he’s just accidentally blurring the lines between platonic and romantic.) _

Fourth, well, there is no fourth. He’s just a mess. 

Hm, maybe the fourth point  _ is _ that he’s a mess. Science.

Natasha is on the floor with the one and only Sam Wilson next to her. The TV is blasting some random movie that Sam said him and Steve absolutely  _ needed _ to watch. So far it just seems to be about a weird shark? Or something, he doesn’t know.

Bucky is busy ‘sleeping’ on the couch, trying his hardest  _ not _ to be bothered which is a rare comfort in the tower but he tries. He’s pretty sure Steve is in the kitchen right now, “making popcorn”, for the past ten minutes. If Bucky’s eyes were open, he would roll them, because Steve is horrible at being secretive at sneaking off. 

Natasha is supposed to be a  _ spy _ for fucks sake, how could she not notice.

“Hey,” She whispers over to Sam. “How much do you bet that they’re gonna fuck by next week?”

Bucky has to force himself to hold back an indignant squawk. He needs to  _ stop _ with his squawking. He’s been doing that too fucking much lately.

“I think they already are.” Sam murmurs back, the smirk clear in his voice. 

There’s a short silence, as if Natasha’s contemplating her friend’s previous statement. “Nah, they can’t be.” 

“Why not?” Sam asks, his voice only halfway filled with intrigue. The other half was clearly distracted because, Bucky guesses, he’s trying to watch the movie. Idiot. Fucking idiot.

“Barnes is too obvious. We would notice.” She pauses. “Or  _ I _ would.”

Sam makes an incredulous noise and if Bucky is being honest, he feels him.

“Hey!” He replies with an air of disbelief and defensiveness suffocating his tone. Good, Bucky thinks, that’s what he gets for gossiping about his love life. 

Thankfully, after that, there’s only silence and quiet sounds from the movie filling the air. It’s so peaceful, or at least  _ almost _ peaceful because Bucky’s brain won’t fucking shut up, that he finds himself on the cusp of sleep.

He feels himself drifting away when he hears a warm, honey-coated voice fill the room. “Hey guys, the popcorn kinda burnt. A couple times.”

Steve gets shushed by the two fully conscious members left, like they  _ weren’t _ discussing him and Bucky’s personal life only a few minutes ago.

Bucky hates himself because he can feel his heart beginning to pound in his chest, and butterflies taking flight in his stomach, warmth spreading through his body. All because fucking Steve, who, might he mentioned,  _ he fucking jacked off to  _ (he’s still trying to forget that), entered the room. 

He wills himself to sleep, forces his mind to go blank until he finally,  _ finally _ , gets to fade into a peaceful slumber.

It’s going to be a hard couple of months.

 

\-----

  
  


He’s fumbling with his tie, and his metal arm not helping at all. Neither are the nerves which are making his real, human hand shake. A fuckton. 

His brain is flashing through the memories of Pepper’s voicemail telling him on the phone that,  _ “This should be pretty intimate, make it seem like a private event. If both of you are comfortable, try to include as much PDA as possible. Good luck.” _

He was trying  _ not _ to think about that voicemail actually. 

After ten minutes, give or take, he  _ finally _ gets his tie on perfectly. He decides to take one quick look at himself in the mirror, hoping that he won’t regret it.

He stumbles into his washroom and lets out a huge sigh of relief at his appearance. He is looking pretty fucking good. 

He has his hair styled in a neat, low, hair tie. He has one single strand of hair against the side of his face, purposefully pulled down to frame it. His black suit, with grey tie, brings out his eyes and pale reflection, and fuck. He should let Natasha and Pepper dress him up more often if he is going to look this good.

He pulls his StarkPhone out of his pocket, only to see that it’s almost time for Steve to be here. He lets out a shaky breath and counts to ten in his head. He’ll be okay, he can do this.

He  _ almost _ manages to convince himself. But then Steve texts him that he’s waiting outside all confidence he mustered up within the last 30 seconds completely left his body.

As soon as he opens his door a wave of  _ something _ , something he can distinguish washes over his body.

Steve is dressed in a simple suit, black and white. He’s seen Steve dress like this a thousand times for different formal events that Stark throws, or that he needs to go to because, well, Steve’s a superhero. But this time something’s different.

Bucky’s never felt like  _ this _ looking at Steve in a suit. 

His internal freakout must show on his face, and Steve asks, “You okay?”

Bucky doesn’t trust himself to speak without accidentally making a weird noise, or a series of  _ multiple  _ weird noises, so he just nods and plasters a smile on his face. Steve smiles back.

“You look, well, you look.” Steve pauses to rub the back of his neck. “Really good, Buck.”

Bucky tries not to blush but he feels his whole body warm up at the compliment. “You too.”

Steve’s eyes soften around the edges and a tint of pink paints his cheeks. “Ready to go?”

Bucky nods in response and they make their way down to the car Stark must’ve rented for them for the night. Which, of course, is a fucking limo.

Bucky rolls his eyes and looks at Steve, who is shaking his head at the car. “Really, Steve?”

“I had no idea!” He exclaims, throwing his hands up in innocence. Bucky rolls his eyes again.

They sit in the limo and talk amicably the entire ride to the restaurant. Thankfully the initial awkwardness leaves Bucky as soon as the conversation picks up, and the ride isn’t tense at all.

It’s actually really fun. It’s filled with small chuckles that turn into roaring laughter, and it feels so  _ normal. _

When they exit the limo, they thankfully aren’t swarmed with paparazzi. The small bit of Bucky still takes in his surroundings by force of habit. Sometimes he still needs to remind himself that he doesn’t need to assess for any threats.

He still spots the photographers hidden, which he prefers a lot more than being ambushed with invasive cameramen. 

He lets out a breath and looks at Steve. Steve is looking down at him smiling and Bucky’s heart is fluttering, no matter how much he’s trying to force it to stop. 

Bucky reaches over and grabs Steve’s hand. Steve startles at the touch for a second before relaxing.

He leans over to whisper into the blond’s ear. “For show, you know.”

He sees Steve nod and takes that for his consent. They enter the restaurant, hand in hand, and Bucky hopes that Steve isn’t able to feel his pulse pound. He also prays to god that his hand isn’t fucking sweaty.

The restaurant itself looks very, well,  _ fancy. _ All of the waiters are dressed formally, and everyone else seem to be wearing suits and elegant dresses. There’s even a fucking chandelier hanging from the ceiling which is, well,  _ what? _

They approach the hostess’ desk near the entrance. There’s dark-haired woman standing behind it, dressed in the red and white server's uniform.

“Reservation for 2 under Bargers?” Steve asks, and  _ really _ ? Bargers?

The lady scans the reservation lists, looking for their name. She nods and begins to lead them to their tables. “Right this way."

They follow her and she stops in front of a table that has a white tablecloth, an already lit candle and flowers already set up. She informs them that their waiter will be there in a few minutes and hands them their menus before leaving.

“Thank you,” Bucky pauses before looking at her name tag, which reads,  _ Kate.  _ “Kate.”

The dark haired lady smiles and walks away, leaving Bucky and Steve by themselves.

As soon as they are alone Bucky stares at Steve before exclaiming in disbelief, “Really?  _ Bargers? _ What the fuck?”

Steve chuckles. “Hey, Pepper was the one who made the reservation. It’s not my fault.”

Bucky feigns annoyance and rolls his eyes. He can’t help but let a smile creep upon his face. He catches Steve’s eyes only to see him staring back at him, a clone of Bucky’s smile appearing on his face as well.

Bucky and him sit there for a whole goddamn minute just smiling at each other like complete idiots. It shouldn’t make Bucky feel as warm as he does.

And then Bucky accidentally knocks down the fucking candle.

See, he should’ve been able to casually move his hand towards Steve’s without fucking anything up. He  _ was _ a Russian assassin for a couple decades after all

But as he lays his hand on the table, and tried to move it, he accidentally touched the metal standy thing the candle was resting on. Then as he dragged his hand across the table slightly, it just fucking fell.

On the table. He widens his eyes comically because, well, shit.

“Fuck.” Bucky and Steve exclaim in unison, both moving towards the candlestick.

Thankfully him and Steve are both superheroes, so they both manage to catch the candle before the flame hit the tablecloth.

And that leads them clasping hands and their faces being very,  _ very,  _ fucking close to each other.  Bucky looks to Steve’s eyes, the subtle green looking more prominent than ever, then down to Steve’s rose coloured lips.

“Yes or no, Buck?” Steve asks him, maintaining eye contact when Bucky looks back up.

Bucky knows what he  _ wants _ Steve to be asking right now, but he doesn’t want to be that person that assumes they’re on the same page. Bucky sends him a confused look, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“I need your consent, Bucky. I’m not going to force you anything.” Steve whispers and he can feel his best friend’s breath against his lips. Steve is so close, but so fucking far and Bucky wants more. 

Bucky glances back down to Steve’s lips again, then back up to his eyes before giving him a small nod.

And then it happens.

Steve closes the slight gap between their lips, and they end up in a chaste, dry kiss. Steve’s lips are so soft against him, and molds so perfectly against Bucky’s that if he didn’t know any better he would say that Steve was made for him.

It’s so short, and the moments almost over as soon as at started. It’s still enough to send Bucky’s heart straight out of his chest. He shouldn’t be out of breath, it wasn’t anything close to a heated make out session, but he still feels breathless.

Steve is looking straight back at him with a look in his eyes that Bucky can’t describe. His mouth is pulled into a soft smile, something so small that Steve probably doesn’t even realize that it’s there. His lips are a slightly,  _ slightly _ , darker shade of pink, but not anything close to swollen. And he just, he.

He looks so beautiful.

Bucky knows that this is all fake. Some part of him deep down knows that this is fake, but right now, in this moment, it all feels so fucking real.

It’s so close to being ‘too much’, yet so far away from being enough and Bucky has never felt like this in his entire life  _ (which is one that definitely is going on longer than it should, and basically defies all laws of nature. But whatever.) _

It also makes him forget the fact that he almost burnt down the entire restaurant. 

Later in the night, while Bucky is sharing his dessert with Steve while pretending not to stare at him he realizes something that scares the shit out of him.

He realizes that although the relationship is not real, and the kiss was only a mere product of a PR scheme, his feelings are fucking real. No questions.

There’s no  _ maybe or maybe not, _ there’s no  _ potentially _ , there’s only love. And not fucking platonic love like Bucky was wishing for it to be.

“Hey, you okay?” Steve asks him, shaking Bucky out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized that he was so far gone in his brain, and had completely stopped eating the dessert.

He feigns a smile, and prays it looks real. “Yeah, just thinking.”

Steve buys it and they go back to eating.

  
  


\------

 

A few days after, Bucky realizes it’s probably time to talk to someone about this.

But he really, really,  _ really  _ doesn’t want to. 

He’s eating breakfast (yes at 1 P.M, he’s not ashamed of his weird sleep schedule) when he ponder’s it over in his mind for a couple minutes, deciding what exactly he could do. There are a million options, and only three-quarters of it could be considered self-destructive. Which he’s really trying to move forward from.

He finally decides the best, not completely destructive, option instead of talking. Sparring with Nat.

_ To: Natasha, 1:21 P.M:  _ **_spar w me @ 2? Plzzz_ **

He stirs his half-filled, mostly milk, bowl of cereal a few times waiting for her reply. It only takes a minute or so for his phone to ring with a response.

_ From: Natasha, 1:23 P.M:  _ **_K._ **

Wow. So heartfelt.

Despite the dry response, he still shoots up out of his chair to get ready. He goes to throw his dish in the sink before realizing that it still had food in it. Fuck.

Growing up in the great depression didn’t make it easy for him to waste food, or anything for that matter. He quickly shoves down spoonfuls of cereal, trying not to choke. He feels impatient by himself, jesus fucking christ.

Finally, he’s down his cereal and puts in the sink. He makes a mental note to clean it eventually.

He rushes in and out of the bedroom, changing into something appropriate to spar in. He quickly ties up his hair, not putting in effort because he knows from experience that it will end up a mess anyways.

_ (He doesn’t want to talk about it.) _

He rushes to the elevator. He presses the button for the floor that the sparring room and equipment are on, and waits. He checks his watch to see that it’s 2 o’clock on the dot, and lets out a breath. Thank god he’s not going to be late, or else Natasha would literally skin him alive. 

He’s not joking, he’s seen her do it before.

_ (He doesn’t want to talk about this either. It was back in the Red Room and unfortunately, one of the memories he accidentally recovered while getting better.) _

When he makes it there, Natasha is already eyeing the guns. He rolls his eyes.

“Hey,” He greets her, walking up to where she was standing in front of the equipment. “What’s up?”

She promptly ignores his greeting. “Guns today, or hand?”

“Hand.” He responds, and when she nods he knew he made the right choice.

They make their way over to the mats, and they stand across from each other. Natasha quirks an eyebrow, and Bucky takes that as a   _ “Well, what are you waiting for?” _

He hesitates too long, and she throws the first hit. He almost ducks too late, he makes it skin of his teeth.

They go back and forth for a while, artistically dodging one another’s advances. But, due to Bucky’s overall distraction throughout the session, Natasha ends up pinning him down.

And then they end up fucking talking. Which is, well, everything he wanted to avoid.

It all starts fifteen minutes after Natasha beats him. She’s sitting next to him, her legs crossed with her plastic bottle of water in her hands. Bucky, because he’s ever-so graceful, is still lying in the exact same spot that he was in when Nat pinned him down.

“So,” Natasha starts the conversation after a long chug of water. “How’s this whole fake-dating thing with Steve? I mean the entire internet is still discussing your, well, rather wimpy kiss from the other day.”

Bucky feels himself flush and immediately groans.  He covers his face with his hands and mumbles into them. “Mi mink mi minf mofe mifh fteeb.”

His face is still covered but he can  _ feel _ the redhead’s eyeroll. “Repeat.” She demands.

He plies his hands away from his facing, the movement feeling a lot more mentally exhausting than it should be. He makes a point of staring at one specific spot of on the ceiling when he replies. “I think I’m in love with Steve.”

He says it so quietly that it’s almost a whisper, but not quite. His chest feels tight after revealing it and in his mind he tells himself over and over that,  _ it’s not 1930, you’re not going to get discharged for this, you’re not going to go to jail for this. _

“Okay.” Natasha replies and the room just kinda stops.

Bucky sits up so suddenly that he’s certain he pulled a muscle in his back. “ _ What? _ ”

In his brain he’s also saying,  _ fuck, shit, crap, what the fuck, did the devil just enter through his back? _ Because, seriously, he must off pulled like. All of his fucking muscles in his back sitting up that quickly.

“What?” Natasha parrots, smirk evident in her voice.

“I just dropped a bombshell like that, and just, like. Nothing. At all. What.”

“Well,” She begins. “What did you  _ want _ me to say?” 

Bucky frowns and furrows his eyebrows. “I, I don’t know.”

Natasha rolls her eyes before cautiously asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bucky almost laughs, because that’s the exact fucking opposite of what he wants.

Instead, he lets out a humourless puff of almost-laughter. “No.”

And that was that.

 

\-------

 

It’s their fourth fake date and it’s something amicable, something boring. Bucky can’t bring himself to even fake being happy for it, which is, well it’s fucking ironic.

Bucky lets Steve speak through most of the conversation, adding enough ‘yeahs’, and noncommittal noises to make it seem like he was paying attention.

_ (He couldn’t bring himself to put in anymore effort. He was feeling so fucking hollow, and he can’t deal with this seemingly never-ending feeling of emptiness.)  _

In the end, Bucky wasn’t feeling it, and he Steve could sense that something is off. Anyone within a five mile radius could sense it.

“Hey,” Steve lightly nudges Bucky at one point. “You okay?”

He tells Steve that he’s tired and his arm is hurting, and when Steve doesn’t look convinced he comes back with a,  _ “Honestly Steve, you know everything about me. I’m fine.”  _

  
But Steve doesn’t know how he cried himself to sleep later that night, with the knowledge and aching pain that was left in his chest when he realized his best friend would never love him back.


	4. NOT AN UPDATE

Hey guys!! So I just realized that it's been almost three months without an update and I'm really sorry. I've been a wreck for the past few months and although it's summer and I'm literally doing Nothing At All with my time I can't fucking write. It's so annoying and I'm so sorry guys.

I'm officially calling a hiatus on this fic, until I can finally find inspiration for this fic. I already know where it's going though so if any of you guys just wanna hear how they end off, message me on my tumblr (neiljostenau) and I'll answer privately and tell you!!

**Author's Note:**

> comments, bookmarks, and kudos are appreciated !!


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